My neighbor installed flood lights a few years ago, they come on automatically at dark and are there to illuminate their back yard storage building for security. The problem with the building is that is is in the direction of my back yard, and my bedroom window. Anytime I want to build a fire and relax, I’m sometimes ran indoors by the artificial light pouring into the night outside. Some spots are shaded when the foliage in the heat of summer is at it’s peak, sometimes I can angle my chair to avoid it’s distraction. It’s just a fact of living in a neighborhood. However, there are comforting things I enjoy, the neighborhood is familiar to me and feels peaceful when everyone joins in turning in for quiet nights when all you can hear are crickets because it’s everyone’s collective bedtime. When a violent thunderstorm rolls in and everyone makes their way to the front porch to watch it feels like we’re all fans of the same team, just watching together. There are good things and not so good things about anywhere you choose to live, I deal with a bit of traffic, and a flood of light after the sun sets naturally.
My curiosity to unscrew the lights myself or aim my nephew’s BB gun in their direction changed last year when hurricane Helene made landfall in September. I have lived in eastern Kentucky all my life and have only ever experienced long rainy days after a hurricane, we are far too inland for anything more than that. But last year was different, and as North Carolina flooded major wind and strong storms hit us here too, enough to knock my power out for 3 solid days. I remember seeing a purple sky and then everything just went dark. The hum of the refrigerator stopped, the air conditioner stood still, and battery preservation took top priority. Everything I thought to do required power or internet and I felt humbled to acknowledge my own dependence on electricity. Luckily I have been collecting taper candles and wall sconces from estate sales for years, interior illumination was no problem for me until it was time for bed. I should include that on this particular Friday, Saturday and Sunday I was alone. Chris was on tour at the time so it was just me and my perfect companion Percy to brave the dark and quiet days and nights.
After a trip to the store for ice and a full tank of gas I settled in, and the sun went down. At bedtime I snuffed out all open flames and crawled under the covers. I felt lonely, the stillness was unsettling. Restless, I peeled back my curtains and saw the neighbor’s floodlights independently at work, the only light under the blanket of blackness for miles surrounding me. The light was grounding and comforting, a sweetness in the bitter. A constant in the face of disaster, a reminder that we were so lucky compared to those that had lost everything, even their homes. Throughout the night if I were to stir, the steady stream of warm light entering my dwelling place granted me my barring again. What I had once considered a nuisance became an anchor.
I was reminded of this last night, in an unforgiving heat wave I had enough light to water my garden after 10pm, once the temperatures broke from being in the 90s, shortly after the sun set. The floodlights are my little moons now, there because we need them sometimes, how lucky we are.
Thank you for reading, drop me a line sometime… I DO love to chat!
justicesarah67@yahoo.com
The Mint Patch Monologue 